


Music to my ears

by Kittywu



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, armin plays the piano again, five times fic, jearmin reverse big bang, pretty much a whole lot of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-07
Updated: 2015-05-07
Packaged: 2018-03-29 12:38:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3896599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittywu/pseuds/Kittywu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Jean watched Armin play the piano. One time Armin watched him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Music to my ears

**Author's Note:**

> This story is based on [the beautiful comic](http://that-one-guy-in-naruto.tumblr.com/post/118398954067/i-had-a-lot-of-fun-drawing-out-this-little-comic) by that-one-guy-in-naruto :3  
> The piano pieces are:  
> [Debussy: Arabesque no. 1](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=28Qi4jLtigc)  
> [Shostakovich: Waltz no. 2](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AOwiRI0bHJE)  
> [Beethoven: Moonlight Sonata 3rd movement](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zucBfXpCA6s)  
> [Rachmaninov: Prelude no. 4](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_VCkuCVK2Pg)  
> [Chopin: Nocturne no. 5](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=irWIk4auHlI)  
> [Satie: Gymnopédie no. 1](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eW33wN2EufY)

**i. arabesque no. 1**

There was the faint sound of music, dulled from the thick walls of the building of the musical faculty. Barely audible, actually. It was a mix of instruments, the blurry result of several pieces being played simultaneously. Nearly covered up by chattering students, the usual noise of a busy street and the constant tapping of the steps of the people passing by.

Jean Kirschstein was standing in front of the building, his gaze fixed on the phone screen in his hand. In fact, he didn’t care all too much for the music coming from the building, the sound of his own music loud in his ears. He tapped his feet on the ground, his other hand resting in his pocket. _Connie is late again_ , he thought and sighed. He had told him to meet him at the uni at five, the faculty was right between Jean’s apartment and the library. But it was 5.20 now and there was no sign of his buzz cut friend and no reaction to his texts either.

He could go inside. He could go inside and have a look for Connie, he’d probably find him fooling around with some friends. There was nothing stopping him from doing so besides the fear of getting lost in a building that he had never entered even though he had picked Connie up from here a lot of times in the year they had known each other.

The door was heavy. It creaked as he pushed it open, revealing a large foyer. The faint sound of music grew louder the second he stepped inside the building, now loud enough that he even heard it through the earphones, a mess of notes and voices. He looked around for a familiar face but only saw some groups of chatting students, no one with a face prominent enough to stand out. No one he would remember a few hours later. So he walked past them, hoping to find Connie.

So he walked through a hallway that looked like a hallway where Connie could be, because there were sounds of people laughing and sounds of people chatting. The posters on the lavender coloured walls advertised scholarships, concerts and other university events. If he was honest, the whole building looked nothing different than the social sciences faculty, it looked just like the building he spent every day in. The only difference was the sound of music, and each time he walked past a door, one melody got a little louder, still muffled by walls and doors but a little more prominent in the plethora of sounds.

It was the flowing sound of the piano, the gentle notes that aligned to something that sounded like flower petals being carried through the air by a soft breeze. It sounded so dreamy, it made him drift away, standing in the middle of the hallway. He spied through the glass in the door and gazed at the person in front of the grand piano. His fair hands danced over the keyboard, feathery touches on black and white keys. His short figure sat on the stool gracefully, his gold blond hair playfully falling into his faces as he moved his hands. And in that moment, a ray of autumn sun fell into the room and illuminated the room in warm light.

“Whoa, Jean? I’m sorry you had to wait for me, man. I’m ready so let’s go.” The voice of Connie pulled him out of his amazement a bit too forcefully.  
He looked at his friend, smirked and playfully punched his shoulder. “Dude, how do you manage to be late all the time?”  
“I don’t even know, I just got caught up in a really important conversation,” he answered, scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment.  
“You say that all the time, man!”

They walked back through the hallway and the large foyer, leaving the building through the same door that Jean had entered. “Just let me pick up my bike real quick and we’re ready to go,” Connie said as he walked up to a bike stand and started to roam through his backpack.  
Jean leaned onto the lamp post next to him, checking his phone for the time and new texts. “Hey, Connie, do you know this guy, he looks like an angel and is like ridiculously good at playing the piano? I saw him practicing when I waited for you,” he said, watching how Connie unlocked his bike and pulled it out of the stand.  
“This is the musical faculty, Jean. Pretty much everyone is ridiculously good at playing their instruments. You need to be a little more specific.”

**ii. waltz no. 2**

He had not given any other thought to the pianist he had seen, after Connie had told him that he had no idea who he was, even with further description. And so he walked into the building of the musical faculty without any second thought as he waited for Connie again, about a week later.

He took out one of his earphones, looking for his friend as he slowly walked through a hallway. He wasn’t sure if he should take off his sweater, the days were still warm even though it was late October but not warm enough to go just in a shirt. Inside though, he was too warm in his wine red zip hoodie. And so he fully unzipped it and stripped himself of the sweater, leading to his second earphone to drop out of his ear. Jean was startled by the music that suddenly had become the only sound he could hear.

The closest sound was once again a piano, this time a more heavy sounding melody. The flow of the piece was somehow solemn, but joyful. It sounded like something someone could dance to, a pair in opulent dresses like from an old costume movie in a majestic ballroom. Curiosity led him closer to the door, let him peak through the glass of the door once again and truly, he was grateful that the door had a small window, since the two doors next to it didn’t, they were just plain wooden doors.

His eyes lit up as he realized who was playing. A pair of small hands was jumping over the keyboard, there was more movement in his arms this time, he lifted them from the keyboard from time to time, he pressed the keys with more force. His back was facing the door this time, yet he was still sure that it was him. The chin long hair glistened like an entire treasure-house, and through the tight grey shirt, he could see his shoulder blades move with each note he played. The navy converse on the pedals moved up and down, it truly looked like he was dancing.

Before he knew it, there was a smile on Jean’s face. It was calming to watch him and he wondered how long he could stand in front of that door without looking like an idiot. He also wondered if he could show Connie the guy, and if Connie might know who he was if he had seen him. Should he go and continue looking for Connie? Should he stay and continue watching the guy play the piano, hoping that Connie would find him? Jean didn’t even really think about it. He got lost in watching the movement of the dancing hands in front of him.

It was the buzzing of his phone that woke him from his daydream this time. The text from Connie told him that he was waiting outside for him. Jean looked at the pianist one last time and left. Connie was tapping his feet, his arms crossed in front of his chest. “Never thought I’d ever wait for you, bro.” Jean rolled his eyes, because he had waited for Connie countless times. And then he remembered that he should show him the guy, because he still knew in which room he was playing and he might find out who he was that way.

So he pulled Connie back into the building, back to where he had been standing. The room though, was empty, the door with the window left ajar.

**iii. moonlight sonata movement no. 3**

Jean already felt a little lightheaded from the few beers he had chugged as he was standing in the kitchen of a guy he didn’t know, talking to another guy he didn’t know. Through the speakers echoed loud electro music, something of a band he had never heard before.

Some friend of his had asked him to come to this house party of someone of his major and Jean had said “sure, why not”. He had lost this friend after playing flunky ball in the street in front of the house, but had found this other guy. This other guy had annoyed him the second they had seen each other, the go-getting look in his eyes, his grin, even the way his chocolate brown hair fell into his face had pissed him off. But then they had realized that they had a bunch of mutual friends and that they were both really competitive and suddenly they had gotten along.

“Man, I literally know no one here,” the guy said, looking at the people walking in and out of the kitchen.  
“I feel you. I know like a handful of people and I don’t even know the host,” Jean shrugged and took another sip from his beer. It tasted cheap, watery and at the same time too bitter and a glimpse on the can fuelled his suspicion even further as he had never even heard of the brand whose logo was printed on the metal.  
“Well at least I know Reiner,” he said and laughed. He followed Jean’s gaze onto the can in his hand and looked at his own as well. “Damn, where did he get that booze though?”  
“I don’t even know,” Jean answered with a laugh.

The speakers were too loud for Jean. He found it hard to understand the conversation he had, even though the slightly shorter male was standing right in front of him. And he didn’t even really like the music they were playing, he was more the indie rock type and lately, because of a still anonymous pianist, a little into classical music.

There were things that one only said after a few beers, the typical effect of the tongue loosening up a little, the brain working less and the evening getting later. Things that would be awkward and maybe even inappropriate sounded completely fitting when drunk. The short thought of the blond guy from the musical faculty had brought the image of his dancing hands and glistening hair back into his mind and the beers had brought the urge to talk about it.

“You know, there’s this guy. I don’t even know his name and honestly I haven’t even talked to him but seriously he is the prettiest being on this planet,” he said, his cheeks heating up slightly as he talked.  
“Dude, you have a crush?”, the other asked his eyes getting lit by the desire for sensation.  
“I don’t know if you could call it a crush because I’ve seen him like twice when I picked up Connie from the musical faculty but you should see him!”  
“Is he a musician?”  
“A pianist. And such a perfect one! I haven’t seen that many yet but I’m sure he is one of the best,” he started to hum what he remembered of the melody he had played the last time, he grinned widely.  
“So, how does he look? C’mon tell me more!”, the other guy asked, placing his hand on Jean’s shoulder.  
“Well, he’s blond. And he looks like an angel. But I don’t know how to get to know him.”  
“My best friend’s studying piano, maybe I can ask him if he knows him, bro.”  
Jean was about to cry of happiness. It was then that he realized he was already way more drunk than he had thought because the thought of a stranger asking his friend for the name of his crush made him way more emotional than when Götze had scored the winning goal. And to this day, he had never cried because of anything besides football. “You’re so nice, man. What’s your name by the way?”  
“I’m Eren. Wait we can ask him right now, the last time I saw him he was with some music majors in the living room!”

Eren wasn’t sober either, so he clumsily reached for Jean’s hand and pulled him out of the kitchen. He couldn’t see what was going on in the living room, since there were a lot of people inside, even in front of the living room were a lot of people. His vision was a little blurry, but it looked like they all were watching what was going on in the living room. Their backs facing him and Eren blocked the way inside, and he then realized that it had gotten really quiet suddenly. He then heard the people around him clapping, so he looked at Eren, hoping that the other knew what was going on but the other just shrugged and started to clap along.

“Armin, now you play! Please!” a female voice exclaimed from inside the living room.  
“Oh no, it’s ok, I really don’t have to. Besides I’m not near as good as the others, so,” another voice, that Jean assumed belonged to this Armin, said. It was a nice voice, soft and clear.  
“Please! Just one piece! Please,” she said again and he could hear the bashful muttering of Armin as well as several other people telling him to play too. “Ok but just a little bit, ok? And don’t laugh if I mess up,” he said and then the room got quiet.

Suddenly, Jean heard a piano. He hadn’t been aware that there was one in the living room, but as he heard the quick music, he was guessed that it was this Armin who was playing. The music felt quick and urgent, and Jean couldn’t help but think of a thunderstorm. It was wild and forceful, ferocious and powerful. And he couldn’t help but imagine how his pianist would look while playing this piece, his hands hurrying over the keys, maybe his head nodding a little.

Armin stopped playing in the middle of the piece though, leaving the room with the harsh ending of his play and the even harsher absence of sound that slowly faded into applause. It brought him back into reality and he realized that Eren wasn’t standing next to him anymore. So Jean tried to make his way through the crowd in front of him, but even in the living room he couldn’t find his newfound friend. What he did find was a blond boy in front on a wooden piano, he was wearing a dark green t-shirt and a denim vest, he tucked a strand of golden hair behind his ear as he smiled and moved away from the piano.

His name was Armin.

**iv. prelude no. 4**

It was not like the day had started in a particularly good way or that Jean was having a particularly good week but he was in a great mood. Actually, there had been a lot of reasons why Jean could have been in a bad mood. His favourite football team had lost their last game, the queue in the supermarket had been too long, his lectures had been boring. But he was skipping through the autumn leaves, whistling a melody.

Connie had told him that he should just go look for Armin, same time as the last times where he had seen him play, and maybe, if he was lucky, Armin would be there. And it felt like the perfect day to see him again. The sunlight was warm on his skin and a slight breeze of wind was tingling through his hair. The closer he got to the building of the musical faculty, the faster his heart was beating. He pushed open the heavy door, took out his earphones, and walked through the foyer.

For the first time, he actually realized how loud the foyer felt, the faint sound of people playing instruments and singing, the conversations of several groups of students, the echoing footsteps on the stone floor. He looked around if Armin was maybe standing around there, but there was no sight of the cute blond boy. He walked past them into the hallway where he had seen him play twice.

His hands felt sweaty and his mouth dry as he asked himself the pressing question he had ignored since the second he had decided to go see if Armin was playing again that day. _What the hell was he actually doing?_ He didn’t even know the pianist. He had seen him play twice, he had never even talked to him. The fact that he knew his name was sheer coincidence. He started to feel like a creep, it was weird of him to be there. He wanted to turn back and pretend that he had never even considered coming in the first place.

The only thing stopping him from turning around was his pride. There were people who had seen him walk inside, who had seen him go into that hallway, who had maybe seen him the other two times waiting for Connie. He could not go back like that now. So he walked further down the hallway.

It felt like it must have been him. The way the music felt, the way the melody flowed like a river running through a romantic landscape. The way he could already see those small hands dancing over the keyboard. He felt like in a dream. His feet carried him to the room where the music came from. There was no window in the wooden door this time, but he realised that the door was opened just slightly. Open enough to peek inside with the chance of going unnoticed, open enough to listen to him while looking casual. As if he had just been curious who had been playing inside and got lost in the flow of the melody that felt like it was coating him in silk.

Jean glanced inside and there he was, the blond hair tucked up in a messy pony tail, strands of hair still framing his face. His gaze was fixed on the sheets in front of him, he looked like he was playing in trance, hands caressing the black and white keys.

There had never been a more magical view to Jean.

He didn’t know what to do, he was completely taken by this pianist he had never even spoken to. He wanted to talk to him, he wanted to get to know him. He wanted to ask him what he was playing and if he was seeing the same things as he played those pieces that Jean saw when he listened to them. He wanted to know what Armin was feeling while his hands were moving over the keyboard. And Jean was dying to know what other things he liked to do in his free time and what his favourite colour would be. There were so many things that Jean wanted to know about this Armin, and he had not a single clue how to approach him. He was just standing there, peeking through that door.

“So you did come again,” Armin said, looking directly at him with a beautiful smile on his face. Jean hadn’t even realized when Armin had stopped to play.  
Jean could actually feel the blood rushing out of his cheeks as he stood in the doorframe like a marble statue. “You knew that I had watched you play?”  
“I realized, yeah. And I saw you at that party too. To be honest I didn’t think much about this until Eren told me that he had made a friend who had a crush on some pianist.”  
He suddenly lacked the ability to form coherent sentences as he stammered something along the lines of “I don’t have a crush on you.”  
“You know, actually I’m done practicing for today but I’ll be here tomorrow again around 3.” The way Armin was saying it, it sounded like an invitation. He was smiling, his blue eyes focused on Jean. But there was no way he was actually meaning it as an invitation, Jean kept telling himself. He knew he was a cool guy, but there was no way that Armin was actually inviting him to watch his practice.

“If you wanted to come again, that is,” he said, quickly averting his gaze. It was hard to see because Armin had turned his face towards the piano again, but Jean was rather sure that the blond was blushing.  
“Are you actually inviting me?”, Jean asked.  
“You look so happy when you listen and you seem like a nice guy. But you don’t have to come though.”  
He barely let him finish his sentence. “No, I’d love to come, it’s just, I have a class at three tomorrow.” He took a deep breath, trying to make his hands and his face feel less numb. “But if it wouldn’t be too forward, would you like to have a coffee with me when you are done with practicing and I am done with my class?”

**v. nocturne no. 5**

It had been two months since they had had that first coffee together. Since then, Jean had spent more time watching Armin practice than he had with studying. When Armin had mentioned it in a joking manner, he had shrugged it off with saying that the semester had just begun and that there was no need to be studying that much already. He had started to do some of his reading in the hours he watched Armin practice though. He had learned that Armin’s favourite colour was ocean blue because he loved the ocean, that he was studying music and history and wanted to become a teacher. And Jean had at some point, with no further warning and with the intensity of a huge rock crashing onto him, realized that he had fallen in love with him. He had fallen in love with Armin to Debussy, Shostakovich, Beethoven and Rachmaninov.

“This looks very like you,” Jean said as he looked around in Armin’s apartment. There were some photos of him and Eren and with some other people here and there, a large canvas with a picture of the Great Barrier Reef on one wall, a bookshelf with more books in it than it should fit. Everything was neat and tidy, still, it somehow had something messy. Armin had lots of things, sheet music, pens in great variations, seashells and plants and every single item on each free spot made Jean smile.  
“You think so?”, Armin said as he put down his bag next to the couch.  
“Yeah, I mean, who besides you would have a book on the life of Gustav Stresemann on his couch table?”, he said, picking up the book and looking through the pages.  
“Hey, he was a very interesting and important man for the political reintegration of post-World War I Germany.” The short boy was reaching for the book in Jean’s hand, stretching himself slightly so he could reach it. Jean just smirked, ruffled the soft blond hair and gave him the book back.  
He let himself fall onto the couch with a flop, smirk still on his lips. “Definitely. So, what did the great Stresemann do?”  
Armin rolled his eyes as he sat down next to him, smiling. “Oh well, he ended the hyperinflation in 1923 and worked towards ending the political isolation after the war. He won the Nobel peace prize for that by the way. Didn’t you learn anything in history class?”  
“Yeah, I probably just forgot, I graduated from high school three years ago after all.”  
“You have very poor long term memory then.”

It was just then that he spotted the e-piano on the other side of the room. “You have a piano?”  
“It’s just a crappy e-piano. It’s ok to practice sometimes or if I try and write my own music but for practicing my actual stuff it’s no good.”  
“So that’s why you always practice at the university?”  
“That and there, I don’t disturb my neighbours.” His soft laugh was light and happy, like a bell.  
“As if your play would be considered disturbing. I’d be happy if I heard you play. I mean, I am happy that you let me listen, you know?”  
“That’s sweet of you, thanks. But I think if you’d hear me every day for a few hours even when you want to sleep or study or do whatever, it would probably disturb you. And I am not that good in the first place, too.” Armin was looking onto his feet, chewing his lip a little bit. Jean thought it was cute, but he couldn’t stand the thought of Armin feeling like that about the way he was playing. “  
You are though. I mean, that good. You play amazingly. I love it.”  
“You’re staring at me and at the piano all the time and I start to wonder if you want me to play right now,” Armin answered, a smile on his face once again. The way he looked at Jean made his cheeks heat up and he nodded.

He walked towards the piano, pushed a few buttons until the screen lit up in blue light, sat down on the stool, shifted around a little, moved his shoulders, the way he always did before he started to practice. “You really want me to play for you again? You’ve heard me play that often already. You’ll grow tired of it, you know?”  
Jean got up from the couch and crossed the room as well. There was no other chair close, so he kept standing there awkwardly. “Nope. Not in a hundred years.”  
Armin glanced up to him. “If you say so. What do you want me to play?”  
“Surprise me,” Jean said, more because he couldn’t memorize the names of the pieces and even though he had by now learned the names of some composers, he couldn’t tell the difference between them.  
“You just don’t know what you should ask for, don’t you?”, he gave him a soft punch to the side, and then bit at the side of his cheek in thought. “Chopin it is, then.”

After all those times of watching him play, he was still fascinated by the way Armin’s hands moved with grace and elegance. He was in awe by the precision of his long fingers. Jean couldn’t stop staring at the graceful boy in front of him, at the strands of hair that playfully fell into his face, at the way his eyes followed the movement of his hands. His smile was enchanting, it had cast a spell on him the first time he had seen it. And the music he was playing, this Chopin piece Armin had chosen was slow, romantic. It felt like a love song to him, a song filled with devotion and flattery. Soft and gentle, a sensual encounter under moonlight.

He was, once again, still staring, lost in his thoughts, when Armin stopped to play. “Seriously, I sometimes think you only hang out with me because you like the way I play piano.”  
“Are you kidding me? I like everything about you.” The words had already escaped Jean’s mouth as he realized their meaning. He wasn’t sure if Armin had picked them up the same way he had planted them into the room, in the doting, loving way he had said them but the silence that followed them made him believe that he did.  
“I think you just tripped over your words, Jean,” he just said. He didn’t look at him, he looked at the keyboard in front of him.  
“I meant it though.” Jean didn’t dare to look at Armin himself, there were a hundred spots in his field of vision that he preferred to focus on than the blue eyes that were as deep as the ocean and as bright as the sky.  
“You like me?”, Armin whispered. The question sounded like he was afraid to ask, like he was afraid of the answer. As if there would have been any chance that he would take back what he had spilled now.  
Jean was nervous, his heart was beating like crazy in his chest. There was so much that could go wrong. The first words were hard to say, he was still reluctant. But with each word, it got easier and every word was lighter than the one before it. “I like you. A lot. Actually, I liked you the second I had seen you and after actually meeting you I fell in love with you.” Armin didn’t answer, he just continued to stare at the keyboard, biting his lip. “But if you don’t like me or if that was too much, it’s ok, I understand. We can stay friends if you would prefer that –“

There was no answer to that. Just the feeling of Armin’s soft lips on his own.

**bonus: gymnopédie no. 1**

Jean had a frown of concentration on his face as he pressed his hands down carefully. He had always admired Armin for the way he was able to play, those swift movements that made it seem like it was the easiest and most natural thing to him, but he was getting more and more desperate with coordinating the movements of both of his hands at the same time, with encoding the cryptic dots and circles on the sheet in front of him and finding out where he had to move his fingers next. He was starting to believe that this was a special form of sorcery.It was a slow and easy piece, and when Armin had played it he had been sure that he could play it too. And here he was, sitting in front of Armin’s e-piano, the blond sitting directly next to him and smiling at him encouragingly.

“It’s no use, I’m not getting it. I always mess up when that melody part starts,” Jean said, smashing his hands onto the keyboard in frustration.  
“Practice! I’m sure you’ll play Mozart in no time!”, Armin said with a smile on his face and gave him a peck on his cheek. “C’mon, you can do it.”  
“You’re just saying it to make me feel better. Actually, I’m hopeless, am I right?”  
“Well, I’ve had better students and it would help a lot if you would count a bit because those are half notes and those are quarter notes. You’d mess up less if you’d consider that. But otherwise you’re doing well actually!”  
Jean ruffled his hair in response, pulled his boyfriend in closer and kissed him. “You’re incredible. No one ever told me I play like shit that charmingly before.”  
“Never said you played like shit,” Armin responded, and this laugh was still one of the most beautiful sounds he knew. “Now come on before I actually lose my patience with you.”

“Was that supposed to be a threat?”, Jean said and he didn’t even care for the horrid chords that sounded every time either Armin’s or his arms ended up on the keyboard. He was enjoying the sound of Armin’s laugh as he tickled him, and the gentle kisses they exchanged in between.

**Author's Note:**

> things that weren't planned: the number thing of the piano pieces. realized it when i was at moonlight sonata 3rd movement and i then though "why not roll with it."  
> i don't know if anyone actually realised because i didn't explicitly state it but yeah the story is set in germany. i have no idea of american colleges but i have a whole lot of idea of german unis so yeah.


End file.
